


Control

by Quakey (Quak3y)



Category: Cable and Deadpool
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-21
Updated: 2018-04-21
Packaged: 2019-04-25 16:10:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14382237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quak3y/pseuds/Quakey
Summary: Control.  Reckless abandon.  Sex.  Love.  What are they to you?(AKA, I wrote something short and extremely NSFW to do some character exploration.)EDIT: This has beentranslated into Russian.  Thank you so much!





	Control

**Author's Note:**

> If you don’t already know that Nate = Nathan Summers, AKA Priscilla, AKA Cable and that Wade = Wade Wilson AKA Deadpool, then you may be in the wrong fanfic. :)
> 
> No particular time frame in canon implied, just experimenting with the characters. Vaguely implied existing relationship.
> 
> They belong to Marvel, not to me.

Nate prefers to be in control, to be the one manipulating events and people to the outcome he chooses. He’s come to expect it, to inspire it from those around him, to enjoy it.

He’s no different in bed.

Wade is as likely to react as to plan, to roll with the punches as he is to throw them. To run his mouth and aggravate Nate as much as he can get away with in one breath, then show in the next just how deeply willing he is to follow Nate’s lead.

He’s no different in bed either.

Which is why Nate is breathing heavily but steadily as he lazily fucks up into Wade’s mouth, and Wade is a mess of hot mouth and roaming hands and reactive growls and hums of approval. Nate is leaning back into the pillows, techno-organic arm behind his head in a relaxed stretch. His right hand is cupping the back of Wade’s head to gently guide him if Wade forgets what he’s supposed to be doing.

Control of a situation starts with control of oneself. Nate _could_ tighten his grip, pull and thrust until he was fucking Wade’s throat instead of just his mouth. The thought has him achingly hard. He _could_ , but he doesn’t. Instead he shifts his grip, trails his fingers down Wade’s face, thumb pressed briefly to the corner of Wade’s mouth where it’s wrapped around his cock, then slides down to Wade’s throat like a caress. A growl rumbles in his chest, hungry, making sure Wade knows just how much he’s thinking of fucking that throat with abandon.

Of course Wade takes the opportunity of the loss of guidance to slide his mouth up and off Nate’s dick. Leans his head back to let Nate drag his hand along his throat and starts, what else, talking.

“I knew I was sexy, but _damn_ you--” he leans to kiss and lick teasingly at the head, “--are so fucking--” mouth slides down the side of Nate’s cock, “--wet and dripping,” runs his tongue under Nate’s sack and mouths at it gently. “You plan on doing anything else with that monster?”

“Put your mouth back where it belongs,” Nate says mildly, tone between command than amused, “and you may find out.”

Wade snorts, “Yes sir, General Bossy, sir,” but he also nips and slides his way back up Nate’s cock, until he is teasing the tip again, drawing a peeved growl from Nate.

Control is also predicting your enemy’s (or lover’s) moves.

Nate hears Wade suck in a breath, so when he suddenly wraps his lips around Nate like the filthiest of porn stars and goes all the way to the base, Nate is ready for it, doesn’t let Wade startle a curse or moan out of him.

“Fuck that’s good!”

Freely given is different than taken without his permission.

His hands are on Wade’s head, rough now with need, with the desire to _take_ for at least a few thrusts. Then he grabs Wade and pulls him up, bodies flush together, Wade’s erection rubbing wetness against his hip. Telekinesis yanks the lube from across the room into his right hand, squeezes it onto the fingers of his left.

Wade is squirming against him, breath rapid and aroused.

“Now do I get to find out?”

“Sure. You’re going to ride me until you come.”

Wade’s hips jerk forward involuntarily at the words, then immediately shove back as Nate pulls his cheeks apart and slips a finger inside, then two, circling and sliding them to slick that tight, perfect circle of muscle. He hovers the lube over and gives another squirt for good measure, working his fingers in and out as Wade curses and twitches.

“ _Fuck_ those big ol’ TO fingers, just as good as your-- _shit fuck_ \--cock, oh god, come on, Nate, come on comeoncomeon…”

Nate chuckles, cock jerking as he hears how turned on he’s making Wade, how out of control and _wanting_ he is. He shuts Wade up the only way he knows how right now, with mouth and tongue, and he shifts his knees between Wade’s. Slicks his own cock and then lines up and pushes into Wade’s heat.

Resistance, a moment of stretching around him, then through and in with one long, slick slide.

“ _Fuck damn!_ ” Wade curses, muffled against Nate’s mouth.

Then Nate just leans back, hands easy on the place where Wade’s legs meet hips, and enjoys the show.

Wade is all movement and passion, doing whatever feels good to him, saying whatever comes to mind, which apparently involves everything from unicorns fucking to Mexican food. Nate isn’t particularly listening to the specifics, just the rhythm of it, the rhythm of Wade letting nonsense and obscenities and the occasional endearment fall from his lips as he moves. Upright and fisting his own erection or leaning backward with his hands braced on Nate’s thighs or leaning forward to put his hands and tongue and mouth all over Nate’s chest and neck and mouth, tracing metal and flesh, sucking and biting to leave his mark.

Nate meets him with his hips, pushes upward to whatever rhythm Wade has in the moment, watches Wade slowly coming undone, and feels something answering rising in him.

Wade is gasping and fisting his cock to pump in time with their movement, grinding almost desperately down. Nate gives in and snaps his hips upwards as hard as he can, until Wade clamps down around him, gasping, hips stuttering upward, and spills over his fingers and onto Nate’s stomach and chest.

The sight of Wade shuddering and over-sensitized, riding through the aftershocks, and the feel of Wade pulsing around him drags Nate over the edge. He drags Wade’s hips down, ass flush against him, groaning as he comes deep inside.

Wade flops forward on top of him, completely ignoring the mess with a blissful sigh. Nate rolls his eyes and uses telekinesis to bring a towel in from the bathroom, cleaning them both as best he can. Wade mutters something sleepy and grumpy and slides to the softer side of Nate, still using him like a body pillow, Nate’s softening cock slipping from him as he moves. And not just content to half lie on Nate, he goddamn _nuzzles_ the side of Nate’s neck.

And this … this is the least in control Nate has felt since Wade tackled him into bed an hour ago.

Because he can control sex, but this … this is something entirely different. Something softer. Not give and take, not battle and opponent.

Something he’s never had much luck keeping.

Something more like love.


End file.
